


Loss

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Medical Emergency, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bedroom smelled of copper when he awoke.  Between combat and hospitals and his work with Sherlock, there was plenty of sense memory to draw on. Sometimes there was blood or gun powder lingering in the air for as much as ten minutes after he awoke.</p><p>This was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss

The bedroom smelled of copper when he awoke. Between combat and hospitals and his work with Sherlock, there was plenty of sense memory to draw on. Sometimes there was blood or gun powder lingering in the air for as much as ten minutes after he awoke.

This was different.

“Mary?” he called out, as he reached for her. That was when he felt it. 

Tacky. Wet.

He called out to her again, more frantically as he got no response. 

“Mary, Love?” He leapt from the bed and turned the light on.

No lingering dream space, no terrible nightmare. Just a great deal of blood, soaking the lower half of her nightgown and the sheets below. She had gone almost Sherlock pale. Her lips still had color, though, which was encouraging.

He shook her shoulders gently. She let out the smallest groan. He checked her pulse. Thready at best.

He pressed 999 as fast as he could, his request and reports firing as fast as Sherlock’s deductions, informing the operator of everything she needed to know. 

“My wife’s unconscious, there is so much blood. We were asleep. I think she’s lost the baby.”

He walked on autopilot. Unlocking the door as he made the call and hurried back to her.

He monitored her breathing, her heart rate. _What else can I do?_

Time stretched, expanding, doubling. It felt like hours since he had picked up the phone. 

The clock hadn’t even registered ten minutes when he heard them at the door. 

“In here!” he called out, his voice sounding higher, panicked. How could that be when he felt so deadly calm. Hollow.  
They both filed in quick and efficient. One took his hand and led him away. “I’m a doctor” John heard himself say.

“Yes, sir, but we need to check her out for ourselves. It will be the fastest way to get your wife the care she needs.”

“Mary. Her name is Mary. She is still breathing. Her blood pressure was 72/43 at last check, but heartbeat was not arrhythmic.” 

_Christ, she has lost a lot of blood._

He didn’t know whether he was still speaking or not as they gently directed him into a chair and worked on her. Breathing, too shallow. They hooked her up to oxygen, got her transferred to a stretcher and out to the ambulance. Still unconscious. 

\---  
When she woke, her first words were, “She’s gone, John.” Her voice was so weak, so broken in those three whispered syllables.

“But you’re still here, my Love.”

I knew statistics, but nothing that would help her. Who cared that one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage? As many as half, really, if you count the very early ones. The ones that happen before most people notice, unless they were trying. 

None of it mattered. Not really. Whether it happened all the time, it hadn’t ever happened to us. 

I held her close, stroking her hair and listening to the machines that told me she, at least, was here.

“I’m so sorry,” came the familiar, rumbling baritone from the door. I didn’t even look up, just felt Sherlock wrap his arms around us. 

And really, what else could possibly be said.

**Author's Note:**

> Miscarriage. This is not actually what my experience was like, but writing this piece was weirdly cathartic.


End file.
